"Curiosity, I suppose," returned Jack, carelessly. Give me your hand. Ha!" exclaimed the stranger, as shouts and other vociferations resounded at no great distance along the thoroughfare, "not a moment is to be lost. The packets were hastily broken open; and, while Wood was absorbed in the perusal of the despatch addressed to him by Sir Rowland, Thames sought out, and found the letter which he had been prevented from finishing on the fatal night at Jonathan Wild's. “My chief,” he said, “took it into his head to have an impromptu dinner party. “Do you play an instrument?” “I play the fiddle sometimes. Having disposed of his steed and swallowed a glass of brandy, without taking any other refreshment, he threw himself on a couch, where he sank at once into a heavy slumber. Pottiswick had mentioned muttering. Here are their letters. The open books she knew by heart; aye, they had been ground into her, morning and night.
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